


The Stars Remember

by Tamatoa



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Missing Scene, frankenfanworkexchange, sorry this is so late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 18:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamatoa/pseuds/Tamatoa
Summary: The city streets were pitch black in the early morning, even with the little haloed islands of street lamps lining them. Fog and misting rain dampened the coats and spirits of any lonesome travelers who happened to be out. Henry shivered, both from the cold and a feeling of being watched, then sighed with relief when he caught a glimpse of a tall man walking on the other side of the street. He quickly crossed over, making more noise than necessary so as not to startle the other. “May I walk with you? I know that it isn’t very sensible, but I often feel uneasy, alone in the dark like this.”





	The Stars Remember

**Author's Note:**

> pls excuse the beings awkward human interaction skills his only model for friendship was clervenstein and a married couple 
> 
> (Sydney I’m so sorry this is late it ended up being So much longer than I thought it would be)

The city streets were pitch black in the early morning, even with the little haloed islands of street lamps lining them. Fog and misting rain dampened the coats and spirits of any lonesome travelers who happened to be out. Henry shivered, both from the cold and a feeling of being watched, then sighed with relief when he caught a glimpse of a tall man walking on the other side of the street. He quickly crossed over, making more noise than necessary so as not to startle the other. “May I walk with you? I know that it isn’t very sensible, but I often feel uneasy, alone in the dark like this.” 

The man glanced down, face hidden in the shadows of his cloak, then slowly responded. “Of course. I feel the same. It’s the mind’s sensation of being watched, something left behind from an age spent sitting around a campfire- before stone walls and firearms- when all Man could depend on was himself.”

Henry’s interest was piqued. “That’s a curious sentiment. Are you a professor? A naturalist?”

“I only wish,” the man said. “It’s a hobby of mine.” 

“Philosophizing?” At least if they were to walk together they would be able to make conversation. 

“More general. Pondering. Anything I think of I have to ponder, or else it stings at my brain like a nest of hornets.” The man shrugged noncommittally. “It’s a terrible habit.”

It was, but it was Victor’s habit. Henry immediately felt the urge to comfort him. “I have a friend who’s the same way. He sees things in the world that I could never dream of- and yet he still insists that I am the more enlightened of the two of us.” 

“He sounds interesting to know,” the man said. “How does one come across such a great mind?” 

“Oh, we have been close friends since childhood. I can scarcely remember not knowing him.” Henry smiled at the memories that surfaced. 

“I mean, again, in a more general sense. Becoming friends. Not necessarily with this man.” 

“Surely you must have made friends somewhere along your life.”

“Never. People are driven away from me by an unseen force. I could call it polarizing in reverse, if I were a physicist. I am just too dissimilar.”

“I find you perfectly delightful to speak with. Quite like my friend I mentioned earlier. You have an unusual perspective on how the world perceives you; as if the idea that someone could enjoy your company is unbelievable.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“Never.” Henry flashed a reassuring smile. “You’re much too serious. If I did it playfully, you might take it to heart and avoid me for the rest of your life.”

“That would be nothing new.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry to have mentioned it.”

“Don’t be. I am beginning to enjoy your company much more than I anticipated.”

“The feeling is mutual, then?”

“So it would seem.”

“We will shortly become close friends, if we’re not too careful. My name is Henry Clerval.” He offered a friendly handshake. 

The man seemed to ponder his answer much longer than necessary before reaching out in answer. “Felix De Lacey.” 

“Charmed. Where are you going at this hour, Felix?” Henry wondered what could possibly motivate anyone to be out in the rain and cold like this at any time of day. 

“Only wandering the streets. It helps me think, when I am unable to find sleep.” Felix looked off into the darkness, as if he would like to leave the conversation as soon as possible. 

“More pondering of life’s great mysteries and the origins of the human condition?”

“Unfortunately, no. More personal thoughts are the ones that keep me awake- for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause-“

“There’s the respect that makes calamity of so long life. A poet! Or at least a scholar of Shakespeare, when he has the free time.” Henry laughed. “I like you better with every second we spend together.” 

“No one has ever said such a thing to me. I can only hope that if you could clearly see my face, you might not run off into the night, never to look back.” Felix stated all of this with complete certainty, as if he were used to hearing it from others. 

“Oh?” Henry looked up, trying to make out Felix’s features, but the cloak combined with the pitch black of the sky covered him completely. “Then let me see, when we come into this next light. I pride myself in never being judgmental, especially over trifles like one’s face. The beauty of the soul is far more important.” 

They stood together in the light for a moment, then the cloak’s hood was lifted- tentatively, with shaking hands- to reveal Felix’s face. He was pale, sallow-skinned, with angular features- more exaggerated than usual here, even so, not hideous by any means. The dark lips and sunken eyes were unsettling, but overall he presented a mournful and sympathetic visage that could have been at home on one of the overworked, often-ill Romantics at Ingolstadt. He glanced down at Henry, then away, as if embarrassed. “Do you see why people are repelled by me?”

Henry didn’t hesitate. “Not in the slightest.”

Felix remained silent, and put up the hood again. However, as they continued on their way, he carefully placed his arm around Henry’s shoulders- drawing him closer, as if to protect him from the rest of the world. In that moment, they were as one being. Two more different men, when taken at face value, could never be found, but the witching hour formed common ground in two poets-philosophers-friends. 

How solitary an existence such a man must lead, Henry thought, how completely trapped in the crippling hatred of his very essence he must be! “Have you ever loved someone?”

Felix thought for a long moment- even more than when Henry had asked his name, then furrowed his brow as if the very subject was painful to think of. “Yes. Many times, although each one of them has been taken from me in some way. Most recently, a woman who had almost been my wife was killed by a man I trusted.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. What happened to the man afterwards?”

“He fled. I have not seen him since, but if I had the means, I would rip from him everything that he holds most dear, that he might feel the pain I have felt.” Felix’s eyes shone with tears, but he quickly regained his composure, looking away as if he were afraid to show emotion. 

“I cannot give you the means, but even if you never see him again, the best way to feel whole again is to be with friends.” Henry took Felix’s hand, then looked deep into his eyes. “Solitude may appear to be the safe option, but I am certain that time spent in good company has healing properties.”

“If only the world shared your kindness and willingness to listen to even the most solitary and abhorred; I would never go a day without such company.” For the first time, Felix smiled. 

“Thank you. If I could stay with you much longer, I would, but I must make arrangements to return to my closest friend. He has been away for some time, and I often worry about him when he is left alone with his thoughts.” Which, when it came to Victor, was most of the time. 

“You must? Surely he could bear a few more days without you.”

“I’m sorry. I really should go-“

Felix cut him off, not in anger, but with the same mournful emptiness as before. “Only a blind man has ever treated me with such common decency as you have, you must be a liar or a fool to not see me for what I am: a monster.”

“All I have seen is a man of singular intellect, a great philosophical mind, but lost to self-hatred and fear of abandonment. You’re not a monster, at least not beyond the confines of your own thoughts.” Just like Victor, Henry thought. Men like Victor and Felix seemed to make up for what they lacked in human companionship with excessive communication with the self, nearly always a dangerous combination. 

“You’re not afraid of me?” 

“No more than you are of me.” 

“I am sorry to have doubted your sincerity. In these short moments, you’ve been a closer friend to me than anyone I have known before.” Felix smiled again, the look of adoration out of place but nonetheless welcome on his features. 

“Hopefully, in the future, you will find closer friends yet.” 

“I might prefer to find you again.” 

“Oh.” Henry blushed. “I would like that very much.” 

After one of his moments of pondering, Felix broke the silence. “Anywhere you could make travel arrangements will be closed for a few hours still. I have a boat. I could bring you to your friend myself.” 

“You would get along well with him. I’ll introduce you as soon as we arrive.” 

“Then it’s settled.” Felix’s expression was unreadable, and the words had an air of foreboding about them. “Follow me.” 

They walked through narrower and narrower side streets, a maze of alleys that seemed farther away from the rest of the city with every passing minute. Suddenly, the street opened up onto a little marina with a few scattered fishing boats moored along the dock. There were no street lamps, but the fog and rain had cleared, revealing all the beauty of the night sky. The moon was nearly full, bright enough for Felix’s soft smile to be seen as he looked up at the stars. 

“It’s beautiful. We should come back here sometime, to sit under the stars and write sonnets to the constellations.” Henry sighed, lost in thought, then continued. “I used to do that with my friends from University, back at Ingolstadt. We would be out on the mountains all night- drinking and talking more than writing- until the sonnets weren’t all about the stars anymore.” 

“I’ll write something for you. Every one of my old poems was about loneliness and sorrow, but I could write so much about this memory alone- something beautiful. I only wish it could last.” Felix helped Henry into the boat, then set to preparing it to sail. 

“I’d like that.” Being a muse would be an exciting change, especially for a cause like this- helping a new friend make the conscious choice to feel happier, making beautiful memories that could be spun into sonnets. Thinking of muses brought Henry’s mind back to Victor, and he decided to share something more personal. He took a deep breath, then continued his train of thought out loud. “I wrote for my other friend, once. Well, only once that I’ve shown him. He blushed and stuttered and carried on so that I had to just pull him in and- oh, you won’t mind this, you’re not judgmental like everyone else- and I kissed him, Felix! I wish that I hadn’t, he’s seemed so distant and frightened around me ever since. He used to love me, but I’m not certain that he still does.”

“How could he not?”

“Love is strange. You never know for sure.” One could never know anything for sure with Victor. Whether it came to love or any other aspect of life, Victor would always be an enigma. 

Felix interrupted Henry’s train of thought. “We could look at the stars, now that we have the time,” he said. “They’re even more beautiful out here than at the marina, nothing to see but ocean and sky. Is it better than the mountains at Ingolstadt?”

“Yes. A thousand times, yes. The company might be better as well.” Henry laughed. “The last time I went stargazing, it was with a crowd of drunken poets who just wanted to look at each other. It’s nice to have some peace to really look, for a change.” Felix nodded in assent, seemingly content to sit back and enjoy the comfortable silence and the gentle rocking of the boat. He tensed a little when Henry leaned against his side. “Is this okay?” 

“Yes. I just haven’t done anything like it before.” “No. I changed my mind. This only makes it worse.”

“What’s wrong with it? Is it me?”

“No- yes. It is. I’m sorry, I-“

“It’s fine. I understand.” Henry stood, giving Felix more space, then leaned against the mast to listen. 

“No, you don’t.” Felix stepped back even farther, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t go on like this.”

“What is it? If I don’t understand, tell me what’s wrong. I can help.”

“You can, but I don’t want you to. I don’t want this all to end. It’s selfish of me, really.” 

“If you would rather just talk about something else,” Henry said. “I understand.” 

“I would, but I shouldn’t. For the sake of closure, if nothing else.” Felix took a deep breath, reached out towards Henry as if to draw him closer again, then hesitated. “I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. Whatever it is, you’re safe here.” He closed the distance between them, smiling when Felix’s hands found their way to his shoulders. “You know, I’ve been afraid and lonely, too. Like I told you, it’s better to have someone there for you.” 

Felix’s grip on his shoulders tightened to the point of bruising, and Henry was reminded even more than before of Victor. This was a familiar state of being for the two of them, especially during the time that Victor had been ill at Ingolstadt; he would wake from whatever nightmares he had faced, not wanting to talk about them, only wanting to be reminded that he was real and solid and alive. The touch was grounding. 

“I almost understand what you mean, about having someone there.” Felix had that strange, empty expression on his face. He relaxed his grip, one hand moving almost mechanically to cup the side of Henry’s face, tilting his chin up so their eyes met. “I’m sorry.” 

Henry almost asked what for, but in the next moment, Felix’s hand was around his neck. The action was impersonal, disconnected, all stone-faced apathy as Henry clawed at his fingers, thrashing desperately in his grip. 

“Shh, it won’t be long now.” The other hand moved to stroke his hair, a twisted sort of comfort, then dropped to his waist to pull him closer. 

His lungs burned, starved for air, reverberating with his heartbeat like a trapped bird against his ribs. Spots of black blurred out the sky as his struggling grew weaker, and his arms fell to his sides. 

If there had been any other ships sailing by as the sun begin to climb above the horizon, they would have glimpsed the two figures- one shaking, wracked by sobs, cradling the unmoving form of the other- and wondered what could have befallen them. 

As it was, only the stars would remember.


End file.
